


Shades of the Past

by elwon



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Catherine ships it, Get Together, Jason sees dead people, M/M, Mentions of violent cannibalism, More timeskips than the young Justice Cartoon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-13
Updated: 2019-09-13
Packaged: 2020-10-14 19:42:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20606255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elwon/pseuds/elwon
Summary: Jason sees dead people. Ever since his resurrection, he’s been able to see ghosts. On the one hand, this is great, the ghosts are more than happy to give him intel and any kind of help he needs; and he even gets to spend time with his mom, Catherine. On the other hand, he has to spend 24/7 with his mom. And she’s deeply invested in him being happy. Deeply. Invested.Companion fic toCold Case





	Shades of the Past

Things Jason remembers:

Wondering where he’s going to end up after he dies when he finds out heaven and hell truly are real, thanks to Jason Blood, Zatanna and Constantine. The resignation he felt seeing the clock tick down from ten seconds. Shielding Sheila Haywood with his body as well as he could with so many broken bones. Thinking about all the things he’d never get to do now; graduating high school, impressing Alfred with his Masters degree for English Literature, and if Dick ever breaks up with Kori, asking him on a date. The heat of the explosion on his back. The force of the blast ripping Sheila from his arms. The large slab of wall landing on top of him before everything went black.

Jason remembers dying.

Things Jason doesn’t remember:

His mother, Catherine, meeting him in heaven, telling him she was so proud of him, and wishing that he’d had a longer life than he did. Swinging around heaven as Robin without a care in the world. Ignoring Green Arrow when he turned up because fuck that guy for how he treated Speedy.

Jason doesn’t remember heaven.

Things Jason remembers:

Waking up before his heart starts beating again. Realising that he’s in his own coffin. Realising that he has nothing to help dig him out except his belt buckle. Climbing through the dirt and bugs to break through to the surface only to be drenched in rain. Looking down at his broken, bashed up fingers and thinking what a horror movie cliché he’s in. Pulling himself almost fully out of the grave and rolling over onto his back, letting the heavy rain wash away the dirt. Realising that there are two feet next to him. Watching as his mom leans over him and speaks quite clearly.

“Keep going, sweetie, you’re almost there!” Catherine says, her voice wonderfully free of the drug induced slur Jason remembers.

Jason stares up at Catherine, pretty convinced that she’s a hallucination. “Come on, Jason! You need to get somewhere warm and dry.”

Jason pulls himself to his feet, staggering forward. He’s not sure where he is, apart from a cemetery, stumbling his way forward, hoping he’s going towards an exit. He’s tired, cold, wet and confused.

“JASON STOP!” Catherine screams, panic lending her volume even in this rain.

He lurches to a halt, instinctively responding to his mom’s voice, and bare seconds later a car rushes past him, missing him by inches.

Jason breathes deeply, heart beating rapidly in his chest. He takes a moment and then trudges after the car, hoping it’ll take him to civilisation. He doesn’t know how long he walks, barely even hears his mom talking to him, although he does catch the word ‘hospital’ several times.

He finally makes it onto Gotham proper, sees the bright shining light of the ER. He’ll go in, explain who he is, and everything will be alright.

A newspaper gets blown into his knees and Jason peels it from his legs with shaking fingers. The front page is still somehow dry, despite the weather. He shuffles into an overhang, wanting to see the date and how long he’s been gone. It’s October 28th. He’s been dead six months. And then he reads the headline.

‘ROBIN FLIES AGAIN!’

But... That picture isn’t of him. It’s not even of Dick. It’s some new kid. A new tiny kid. Was Jason that tiny when he started? Probably. He stares at the picture, his fingers gripping the newspaper so tightly. He died. Jason died on the job, and six months later, he’s been replaced. By a kid. He can’t wrap his head around it.

“Jason, sweetie, please! You need to go into the hospital.” Catherine says, pointing towards the ER.

He shakes his head, too in shock to listen to his hallucination’s pleas. He walks on, body on automatic as he ducks into an old slum. It’s dry, warmer than outside at least. He climbs the stairs until he’s on the third floor, and then he slumps down against the wall. Staring at that photo of a Robin that isn’t him.

Jason doesn’t know how long he sits there, staring at that headline and photo. Long enough that night has turned to day, and back to night again. Long enough that he can no longer ignore the hunger in his belly or the way his skin crawls in his clothes, covered in grave dirt.

“Jason, please! Sweetie, please listen to your mom!” Catherine begs, but Jason can’t look at her.

“He can’t hear you, doll.” A man says, and Jason should move, should jerk to his feet, but he stays stock still, staring at the newspaper. “The living never can. You must be new.”

“I... I got brought back with him.” Catherine says, as if unsure how that happened. “It’s complicated.”

“Sure, probably.” The man walks into the room, through the wall. Jason can only see it from the corner of his eye, but that’s definitely what happened. “Us ghosts can’t talk to the living. No point in trying.”

“But...” Catherine looks over to Jason, doubt on her face. Jason hasn’t spoken to her, but he did stop when she screamed. He can see why she’s doubtful he can’t hear her. Especially because, well, he can.

“Listen, doll, you’re new so I’m gonna give you a rundown on how this works.” The man offers his hand to Catherine. “Take it, I’ll show you how to move about.” Catherine takes it, her fingers trembling as the man guides her through the wall. Jason can still hear them talking, but it’s muffled. He loses track of time, staring at the wall, his skin itching. His first priorities once he can will his body to move are food and clean clothes, in that order.

“Well, it’s been fun, doll. Just remember to take it slow, and you’ll do fine.” The ghost tells Jason’s mom as they walk back in through the wall. “I gotta go now, need to do my daily haunting of my piece a shit brother. It’s what he deserves for literally stabbing me in the back and stealing my wife.”

The ghost heads out, walking through the window, and Jason remembers they’re on the third floor. It’s a weird way of leaving, even for the dead.

“Jason, honey, I know you can’t hear me, but...” Catherine sighs, wearily.

“I can hear you, Mom.” Jason says turning his head to look at her. “I can see you, too.”

Jason remembers the look on his mom’s face when he smiles for the first time since dying.

***

Jason’s been sleeping rough around Gotham for a couple of months now. He got clean clothes from a goodwill donation, a warm red hoodie, and a thick, durable pair of jeans; and in that time he’s done a lot of recon. He’s watched Batman and the New Robin. He’s even seen Nightwing with the New Robin. They seem to get on well enough, and it feels like another dagger in Jason’s heart. Catherine still doesn’t understand why he hasn’t gone back to Wayne Manor; and Jason can’t bring himself to explain to her why he can’t yet. 

He wants to spend time with his mom while he deals with being replaced. And there’s the nagging feeling he should be trying to help her move on to the next life. The thought scares him more than he can express. The last thing he wants to do is ask Catherine how to help her leave him again. But the notion remains that he needs to help her; and either confronting or returning to Bruce is just going to have wait until he’s done that.

“You can’t really think they don’t want you back?” Catherine says one day, while Jason’s sitting on the roof, enjoying a rare moment of November sunshine. “Don’t you want to see Alfred at least? I know you miss him.”

“It’s... I’m not ready. I guess?” Jason mumbles, staring up at the passing clouds. Catherine hums, not agreeing or disagreeing, purely an acknowledgement that Jason’s spoken.

The light starts to fade after a while, and Jason heads down to his squat, turning on the small camping stove he’d procured to make himself soup. He’s just finished his mug of minestrone when he hears voices outside. He braces himself, who knows who it is out there, and what they could want.

“We should tell him. That’s all I meant.” Man One says, sounding put out.

“We should wait and make sure.” Man Two replies, calmly. “Cathy here has been fielding everything, it’s her decision.”

“Not yet.” Catherine says firmly. “Let him get used to being back here. It’s... It’s too much, and he’s too young.”

“I thought you said he used to be Robin? He should be able to handle it.” Man One scoffs.

“Watch it.” Catherine snaps, anger bubbling in her voice. “You might’ve been dead so long you forgot how to feel, but I haven’t.” 

Jason’s noticed how the ghosts have started to visit this building. There are so many ghosts in Gotham. Which, to be honest, is unsurprising, given the rate of violent death in the city over the centuries. But Jason would never have guessed this many. He’s heard the snatches of whispered conversation that retreats if he gets too close. There seems to be a general consensus of ‘Not Yet’ among the ghosts regarding Jason. On the one hand, it’s been letting Jason focus on Batman and his sidekicks, former and current. On the other, it’s clear there’s something going on among Gotham’s ghosts involving Jason. It’s probably time he found out exactly what that is.

“Tell me what?” Jason says, looking at his mom’s surprised face. Man Two turns out to be the ghost who first taught Catherine the rules. Jason doesn’t recognise Man One, but he’s dressed in a Victorian frock coat, so he’s either an 80’s goth, or an 1880’s throwback.

“Cathy?” Man Two asks, and Jason blinks at how easily he defers to his mom. Not that he doesn’t approve, but it’s a sign of something big.

“I... Oh damn.” Catherine sighs, running her hands through her shoulder length dark hair. When she was alive it was dull and lank. Now she’s dead it’s shiny and soft looking. “Tell him, Jimmy.”

“Marc was telling us about the latest haunting.” Jimmy-I-Guess says with a nod towards Mr Goth.

“Uh...” Jason blinks at them. “Hate to break it to you, but uh... You’re all hauntings. Right now, even.” 

“We keep tabs on the violent ones.” Jimmy says with a soft laugh, clearly unoffended. Jason wants to point out he haunts his murderer nightly. Does that not count as violent? “Ghosts stick around until our unfinished business is done. Only, it’s hard to finish business when you can’t talk to the living.”

“And this has what to do with _me_?” Jason squares his shoulders, falling into a Robin stance without thinking about it.

“You’re a revenant.” Marc, Mr Goth, adds, bowing slightly. He’s an 1880’s throwback then. “The Revenant, in fact. Everyone wants to talk to you. You can help us.”

“_If_ he’s willing.” Catherine says, angling herself between Marc and Jason.

“If you’re willing, of course.” Marc nods, looking nervous of Catherine’s wrath. “But you can’t know if you’re willing if you’re entirely uninformed, can you?” 

“Most of us are willing to pay a price.” Jimmy says, grinning. “Batman always wanted information. Ghosts can get that for you. Easily. What better information network could there be than the dead?”

“Who says I want information?” Jason tries not to let his hackles raise at the mention of Bruce.

“You still tracking the bats and the birds?” The sparkle in Jimmy’s eyes is knowing. “Then you want information. We’ve got it.”

“Intel for help.” Jason narrows his eyes at the two male ghosts. “Help of what kind?”

“All kinds.” Marc says quietly. “One fellow I know, he simply wants a cup of coffee after fifty years. Another wants a letter delivered to her daughter. Others... They want something else.”

“I’ll think about it.” Jason crosses his arms, hiding the tremors in his hands as he moves back to previous spot. They’ve been getting worse and it worries him, but he has bigger priorities.

He just has to work out what they are.

***

He’s still working out what his priorities are. But in the meantime, he’s going to help out the other street kids. He shares the food he steals with them, gives them tips on the best places to hide, which shelters are safe and as inevitably happens, defends them against people trying to hurt them. The shakes are getting worse, and fighting makes the episodes longer and more severe. But Jason can’t stand by idly and do nothing when kids with no one else need someone. 

A few ghosts have approached him, and Jason has a pretty firm suspicion that his mom’s been vetting them. It’s nice that she’s getting the respect she’s due, but he feels conflicted that it’s because people want something from _him_, not her.

Letter Lady was the first ghost that made it through. It was easy enough to retrieve her letter from the attic it had ended up in. It took more time to break into the house to get the letter than it took to walk it to the apartment building her daughter now lived at and leave it in her post box. Jason stuck around to check that the letter was received. It had been uncomfortable to watch a sixty year old woman cry happy tears over a letter, but the look of relief on Letter Lady’s face as she faded away to presumably the next life had been worth it.

Coffee Dude was the second. It was a deeply weird sensation to let a ghost occupy the same space as he was in. Sitting at the back of a coffee shop, one small black coffee in hand while the ghost settled into his body, moving his hand and drinking the cup down until nothing but dregs remained. Coffee Dude had sat savouring the last mouthful for a long moment before slipping out of Jason’s body and fading the same way Letter Lady had.

He’s walking home when a ghost turns to him with a horrified look on her face. She’s barely got the time to yell “Look out!” before Jason’s surrounded by at least five well trained combatants. He lets muscle memory take over, dodging and flipping as he’s been trained to. He knocks out two with a well aimed punch to the solar plexus, and a vicious kick to the jaw.

Reinforcements arrive and Jason is overwhelmed long enough for one of them to jab him with a needle full of sedative. As the world goes dark and he sags in their grip, still desperately trying to get away, he hears his mom’s voice screaming his name fiercely in the distance.

***

“I still don’t trust her.” Catherine says, eyes narrowed and glaring at nothing in particular.

“I know, Mom.” Jason sighs, shifting on the cold metal chair of the balcony. He peers over the edge to look at the sheer cliff again. “But unless you can get us out of here with ghost magic, we’re stuck in Nanda Parbat until Talia lets me go.”

“I don’t have ghost magic.” Catherine looks at him with that Mom Look, making Jason want to squirm. It reminds him painfully of Alfred. “We’ve been here over a year, and she still hasn’t cured you like she promised.” 

Jason sighs, knowing that Catherine’s right. All the doctors Talia’s dragged to see him have said the same thing. The brain and nerve damage is irreversible, and will only degenerate. Jason’s not going to get better. Only worse. “Maybe I should tell her I can see ghosts...”

“You absolutely will not, young man.” Catherine says looking scared. “You tell her you have an ability like this, and she’ll _never_ let you go. You’ll be too valuable. Right now, she’s pinning her hopes on getting into Bruce’s good books by bringing you back to him. That gives us some wiggle room.” 

“I know, Mom.” Jason says quietly, hearing footsteps coming along the hall outside his room. They’re hurried and not at all like the footsteps he’s used to hearing. The door opens without a knock, and Talia enters, her face a picture of grim determination.

“We need to move now.” Talia says, reaching out to grip Jason’s arm. “No time to explain. Come.”

Jason’s pulled out of the chair, and he does his best to move after Talia as quickly as he can. “What’s happened?”

“Quiet.” Talia hisses, checking the hallway and dragging Jason behind her. Catherine hovers next to him, looking worried. Jason tries to track their path as they move silently and quickly through a maze of corridors and hallways, until they reach a heavy set of double doors. Talia opens them, and they swing open without a sound to a cave beyond. Jason’s used to going down steps to a cave, and has a moment of déjà vu as they descend. But unlike the cave under Wayne Manor, Talia stops halfway down on a landing, pulling him over to a platform. Even from here Jason can see a green glow. 

“Talia?” Jason says looking around, between the dank cavern, the green glow and his mother’s terrified face.

“My father has declared that we’ll waste no more time trying to fix you.” Talia says solemnly. “But I can’t leave you like this. He’ll be furious with us, but I have a plan.” 

Jason opens his mouth to speak, but Talia pushes her hands up against his chest. Jason stumbles back, over the edge of the platform to the waiting Lazarus Pit below. He crashes into the glowing green water, causing waves as he sinks down. The pit burns and Jason screams silently under the surface.

The green overcomes him.

***

He slams his fists into the wall yet again, howling out his rage and anger. These days, nothing seems to stop the wave of hate and violence that crashes over him thanks to the Pit. He has to ride these fits out, and hope that he’s not hurting anyone that doesn’t deserve to be hurt.

The tv that had been showing the latest news of Batman returning the Joker to Arkham currently flickers between black and white, the screen destroyed when Jason had thrown the remote through it. Catherine’s pulled herself into a corner of the room, intent on keeping out of Jason’s way until he calms down. She’s stopped trying to calm him down when this happens, too worried about Talia seeing him yell at thin air on the hotel’s cctv.

Jason had been angry watching the news, there’s no question about that, but the thing that had tipped him over from icy cold, calm fury over the Joker’s continued existence to green burning rage was the sight of Robin standing next to Batman.

He has plans for Bruce and the Joker, but the fact that there’s a Robin almost feels like a personal insult. Oh hey, you lost a Robin? Oh well, never mind, here’s an upgrade for you.

Jason thinks that if it had been Nightwing standing there, he wouldn’t have cared. Hell, if the new Robin had been an adult, not even Dick in the Robin suit, but any adult who could make the decision to throw themselves into the vigilante life, Jason wouldn’t be feeling the way he is now. But no, Bruce picked a kid. A _tiny_ kid. Someone else to indoctrinate into his futile mission. You’d think losing one kid would have been enough for Robin to be retired permanently. It’s like Jason meant nothing, was so replaceable that anyone would do. What the fuck was Bruce thinking? 

The rage finally ebbs, leaving Jason with bloodied knuckles, a huge dent in the hotel room wall, and a collection of random ghosts standing near Catherine; some with just their heads sticking through the wall, some grinning in schadenfreude, and one gently resting her hand on Catherine’s shoulder, trying to comfort her; but they’re all watching him silently. He’s sure some of them are judging him, but honestly, _fuck them_. They can take a dunk in the Lazarus Pit and see how well they deal with it in conjunction to seeing his murderer laughing on live tv while his replacement stands next to his former father figure looking downright smug.

Jason slumps down on the nearby bed, sighing. He watches the blood drip from his hands, pooling on the floor and staining the carpet. The door opens, and Talia slips inside, first aid box in hand. She tsks at the sight of him.

“You need to learn how to refrain from these rages.” Talia says brusquely, taking out wipes and bandages.

“I want to kill him.” Jason says instead of replying to her point. He knows he needs to control himself. He doesn’t need Talia to tell him that. One glance at the sorrow on Catherine’s face does that better than she ever could. The last thing Jason ever wanted to do was remind him mom of his dad.

“Naturally.” Talia nods, wiping down his hands efficiently. A part of Jason always feels utterly confused at watching Talia take care of him. It’s so at odds with the image of herself she presents to the world.

“Bruce, I mean.” Jason clarifies, and sees Talia flinch. It feels like a victory, and he hates himself for it. “But first I want him to kill the Joker, too.”

“He didn’t do it when you were dead.” Talia says, no tremble in her voice, or hesitation in her hands, but Jason knows he’s affected her. The flinch was proof of that. “What makes you think he’ll do it once he learns you are alive?”

“I’ll make him.” Jason can feel a snarl cross his face, and he looks away. He takes a deep breath, searching for that elusive calm.

“You’ll need far more training than you have now to do that.” Talia points out. She looks up at him, taking her attention from where she’s wrapping his hands.

“So I’ll train.” Jason shrugs, and the vestiges of green fade from his vision. “I’ll learn everything he wouldn’t teach me.”

“I’ll set something up for you.” Talia says, narrowing her eyes in calculation. “It may take some time. Have patience.”

“She’s not wrong about Batman.” Catherine says as Talia leaves the room. Jason glances at her, but she’s looking away from him. “You know she’s going to stall you, right, sweetie?”

“I’ll let her if it gets me what I need.” Jason whispers, flexing his now wrapped fingers. “I can wait.”

***

Today’s not the first time Jason’s met up with Dick to share intel on cases after the disaster that was his revenge attempt on Bruce and the Joker via taking over Gotham’s underworld as the Red Hood; their meeting in New York had gone about as well as forcing Bruce to kill the Joker. Jason’s shaken off turning into a tentacle monster, ignoring his mom laughing at the situation. He can never predict how she’s going to react to things. She’d been supportive and calm throughout his assassin training; quiet and hesitant once they’d returned to Gotham. 

In New York she’d mentioned how tired Dick looked, encouraging Jason to be a little kinder than normal. Now they’re back in Gotham the gloves are off, and Catherine’s not holding back any longer. Maybe it’s the influence of, Marc, Jimmy and the other ghosts, giving her confidence thanks to her position as the Revenant’s mother. And Jason wishes right now that she’d keep some thoughts to herself.

“Did Dick get prettier?” Catherine hums, eyeing Nightwing appreciatively as he bounds the rooftops towards Jason. 

“I don’t see how that’d be possible.” Jason mutters, glad the helmet only broadcasts his voice over a certain volume. Catherine can always hear him, but it means Jason can respond to her without looking like he’s talking to nothing.

“Oh _really_?” Catherine says, her voice teasing. “Well, at least you’ve got good taste in men. Unlike me.”

“Mom. No. Stop.” Jason sighs. “It doesn’t matter if he’s the most beautiful thing I’ve seen in my life. He’s not interested, and I’m not gonna wreck a potential working relationship just to get rejected.”

“The most beautiful thing you’ve seen in your life, huh? Funny, that’s how Willis described me once.” Catherine says, a fond smile on her face that Jason never thought he’d see while talking about his dad. “You never know; he might be interested! But I get you on not ruining things.”

“Thanks.” Jason says dryly.

“Just give it a chance, please?” Catherine says pulling her hair over her shoulder.

“I’ll take it into to consideration.” Jason whispers as Dick arrives on the rooftop.

“That means no.” Catherine sighs. “It’s fine. I’ve all the time in the world to convince you.”

“’Wing.” Jason says loud enough for Dick to hear, ignoring his mom.

“Hood.” Dick nods back, there’s something a little off about his body language, and Jason frowns.

“Here.” Jason throws Dick a USB stick. “That’s got all the intel on the Rivers case.”

“Thanks.” Dick says, looking worse for wear. Must have been a rough night for him, and it’s probably why he doesn’t sound the least bit grateful. “I’m so hungry. Do you... Do you want grab a bite to eat?”

“You’re willing to lower yourself to eating with _me_? You must be starving.” Jason scoffs, and immediately regrets it when Dick winces.

“Hood, come on, I’m trying to be friendly here.” Dick pushes his hair back from his face. “Can we just not argue tonight, please?”

It’s a combination of the honest please and how pathetic Dick looks that makes Jason ease up despite himself. It’s also how he finds himself sitting on the edge of a roof next to Dick, while he makes his way through a box of chow mein without chewing. It’d be disgusting if it wasn’t showing off just how little gag reflex Dick doesn’t have.

“And then he said ‘Sometimes I wear Rob’s shorts on my head to remind me of home!’ and that’s when we realised Gar was allergic to vodka!” Dick snorts, dropping his now empty box on the rooftop.

“It took you that long?” Jason grins, safe in the knowledge Dick can’t see under his helmet. He hears his mom humming and it takes a moment before he recognises it as ‘Kiss the Girl’. 

Dick is leaning in towards him, but it means nothing. It can’t do. “O? Yeah, I’ll be there in five.” Dick says, all humour gone from his face. “Sorry, Hood. We’ll have to catch up some other time.”

“Whatever.” Jason calls out, unsure if Dick even heard him as he rushes off to save the day like the hero he is.

***

Dick’s barely got one foot on the wooden steps of the now abandoned 21 Dual Street when Jason spots him. It’s just Jason’s luck that the golden boy would turn up at one of his haunting sites. Catherine’s grinning in the corner of his eye, and Jason sighs heavily. He’s not really prepared for Dick today. Especially as the last he’d heard from Alfred was that Dick had broken an arm and wasn’t supposed to be out at all. 

“Hood.” Dick says as a greeting as Jason stops just far enough away that Dick will have to move his feet to grab on to him.

“’Wing.” Jason tilts his head, studying Dick. He looks tired, but otherwise healthy. So pretty much normal, then. “Thought you were benched.”

“I’m fine. Why does everyone keep nagging?” Dick sighs, lifting a hand to run it through his hair, ignoring how the extra grip palms snag on the strands. “I’m working a cold case. Because if I don’t do _something_ I’ll go mad. So, I’m checking on the crime scene. Happy?”

“Never. And I didn’t actually ask.” Jason shrugs. “What, you thought I was checking up on you for _Batsy_?” Jason snorts, and the voice modulator on the helmet gives it a crackly edge. 

“No. I just... I don’t know. Everyone’s been hovering and doing everything for me before I can; I guess I’m just a bit antsy.” Dick bites his lip, trying to hold back a weary sigh.

“Getting a taste of your own medicine, huh?” Jason snorts again. He turns his head to stare up at the house. A transparent figure stares down at him from an upper floor bedroom. He doesn’t look hostile, but he’s not exactly welcoming either. “You going in there?”

“That’s the plan.” Dick nods, looking up at the house too. Jason wonders what he sees there.

“Hmm.” Jason starts walking towards the steps, going past Dick without another word. This close, even through the helmet, he can smell Dick’s aftershave and shampoo. He tries not to inhale and savour it, but from his mom’s giggle, she knows exactly what he’s thinking.

“Not that I’m against company, Hood, but...” Dick takes a breath, and Jason’s pretty sure he’s about to fumble his way through asking Jason to politely fuck off. Well, he’s out of luck. The ghost takes priority over Dick’s boredom.

“But? I’m not taking over your case, ‘Wing. But I do need to check out this place for other purposes.” Jason twists on his heel, staring down at Dick from the top step. “That a problem?”

“...No. It’s fine, I suppose.” Dick sighs, and follows Jason up the steps. By the time he’s caught up to him by the front door, Jason’s got it open and has stepped through. The house looks a fucking mess. There are old dried bloodstains nearly everywhere Jason looks, and the place looks like a horror movie set. That, or an abattoir.

Jason huffs, beginning to climb the flight of stairs to the next floor up. He’s pretty sure the ghost is still in that bedroom. He hears Dick quietly pad off around the first floor, investigating his cold case. He’s not going to find anything, but hell, if the golden boy wants to waste his time that’s his business. 

Jason heads to the bedroom with a view out on the street, taking note that vandals and bored teenagers have obviously been through the house before. It’s empty of furniture, but tagged across the wall of the master bedroom is graffiti. ‘will someone just tell the joker that batman isn’t going to be taking him to prom?’

Jason leans against the wall and waits for the ghost to reappear. It takes much longer than he was expecting, over fifteen minutes pass before the apparition reforms itself by the window. 

“Get out.” The ghost hisses at him, his blood soaked face twisted up in a snarl.

“Can’t do that man, I gotta get you to move on.” Jason says calmly. “Both your kids wanna sell up so they can get out of Gotham and have a good life. You keep acting this way and they’ll be trapped here.”

“I need revenge.” The ghost howls; and Jason tenses, hoping that Dick hasn’t heard a word.

“I get that.” Jason nods. He really does. He’s still trying to get his own revenge after all. But Life has this funny way of delaying you. “On who?”

“Croc!” The ghost snarls. “He ate us. He ate me and my poor Mary... Ripped us apart and gobbled us down.” The ghost howls again, his fingers turning into claws and rending his clothes and body to ghostly shreds before reforming.

“OK. OK, so you need your revenge on him.” Jason says, waiting for the ghost to calm enough to make sense. “How are you going to do that?”

“You’ll give me your body and I’ll drag him here by the tail, and butcher him into little pieces like he deserves!” The ghost screams, lunging for him, only to be stopped by the sound of the stairs creaking as Dick makes his way up.

“No, I won’t be doing that.” Jason says firmly, loudly, and he’s pretty sure Dick heard that.

“Hood?” Dick calls out as he crests the stairs. He spots Jason in a bedroom and heads in. “Doing what?”

Jason turns to look at Dick, and not for the first or even last time, Jason’s relieved that his helmet hides his entire face, and Dick can’t see how embarrassed Jason is to have been caught talking to a ghost. Or from Dick’s perspective, himself. “Uh... The graffiti.” Dick comes further into the bedroom, reading the tag.

“Ha. I mean hell no, but also yes.” Dick chuckles quietly beside him. Jason tenses up as his mom coos quietly over how cute Dick is. He’s waiting for her to make some comment about how easy it would be to seduce Dick if he’d only put the effort in. But oddly she stays quiet this once. He risks a glance at her, and sees she’s glaring at the ghost. She’s turned her back to Jason and Dick, clearly blocking them from the ghost in a protective manner. Meaning, it’s time to go. Dick’ll be safe from this one, he’s got nothing the ghost wants. At least right now, anyway. 

“So, I got what I came here for.” Jason says, walking behind Dick, he clenches his fists; not even allowing himself the chance to glance down at Dick’s barely clad behind. That suit really is way too thin. Way too thin. “And I know I said I wouldn’t touch your case, but I’m pretty sure you’re looking at Killer Croc.”

“What makes you think it’s Croc?” Dick swings round, confused. Jason supposes his tip is a bit out of left field as far as Dick’s concerned.

“Just a feeling, Dickie.” Jason says softly, slipping down the stairs as quietly and quickly as he dares. The ghost’s followed him out past Dick, and Jason can feel that his abrupt exit after his refusal has riled the ghost up more than Jason thought it would. “Just a feeling.”

“A feeling.” Dick repeats, leaving the bedroom to follow after Jason. “Helpful! Thanks so much, Jay.” Jason can hear the sarcasm in Dick’s tone, but going back to help now would just make things worse. But still, just in case the ghost does take his fury out on Dick, Jason lingers in the shadows of the street.

It takes Dick less than a minute to rush out of the house behind him, none the worse for wear, but looking a little pale. Jason stays put as Dick goes over to his bike and peels off down the street.

“Well, that went just great, didn’t it!” Catherine hums in mock amusement. 

“Mom...” Jason turns to her in disbelief.

“Yeah, that was sarcasm, sweetie. That couldn’t have gone worse if you tried.” Catherine shakes her head in disappointment.

“Look, some ghosts-” Jason starts, only to get cut off.

“He didn’t deserve help, I told you that.” Catherine rolls her eyes, cuffing Jason’s shoulder with an open hand. “I mean your Dickie.”

“He’s not mine!” Jason says wearily. One day he’ll get her to stop calling Dick that. One day.

“Not with that attitude he’s not, sunshine.” Catherine scoffs. “Think positive. Have you tried chocolates, yet?”

“Mom, please. No.” The constant helpful suggestions for wooing Dick are so out of date it makes Jason want to dive face down into a pizza and die.

“Mom, please. Yes.” Catherine says without missing a beat. “You need to actually try if you want to get anywhere, sweetie.”

“Ugh. Resurrection was a mistake.” Jason mutters under his breath, hoping she won’t hear it.

“None of that, Jason Peter Todd.” Catherine says huffily. There’s an edge there that Jason knows means she’s genuinely upset with him. “Some of us would give anything to be alive again. You’ll feel that way one day.”

***

Jason’s getting discouraged. His first attempt at taking Dick out on a date had been a complete disaster. He’d decided to go low-key with a picnic complete with one huge milkshake and two straws to share, and the perfect view from two building rooftops over of the outdoor screen for the showing of Robin Hood that the Gotham Culture Preservation Society had set up to celebrate 80 years of Gotham’s independent film industry. 

Dick had looked confused at the milkshake, and enjoyed the film while maintaining a full arms length from Jason. The only reason Jason hadn’t thrown himself off the rooftop without using his grapple was Dick’s rather oblivious parting remark of how nice it was to hang out without work for once. Obviously, low-key wasn’t going to cut it.

He and Catherine put their heads together and try to think of date ideas that are obviously dates. “Roller Derby!”

“He’ll get too into it and we’ll end up injuring each other.” Jason shakes his head. “I’ll get too into it too.”

“Laserquest?” Catherine says after a long pause, tucking her hair behind her ears.

“We get shot at enough on patrol.” Jason snorts, thinking of worse case scenarios and small children crying at two overzealous vigilantes destroying the laserquest centre. “Definite no there.”

“You already tried a picnic...” Catherine muses, tapping her fingertips against her lip. “What about a nice restaurant? Take flowers and chocolates. Even your Dickie isn’t so blind that he’ll miss it’s a date.”

“Please don’t call him that. But yeah, I guess. Fancy restaurant it is then.” Jason sighs, pulling out his phone to make a reservation at whatever place has a table free at possible short notice, and isn’t a mob front. Which, in Gotham is far less places than you’d think. There’s a new place that’s got rave reviews, and poking about the website, no obvious links to well known names.

“I always liked it when Willis ordered for me. You should try that.” Catherine says, smiling wistfully. “And pay for everything too!”

“I’m not sure about that...” Jason says, looking up from his phone screen and taking in the excitement on his mom’s face. “This isn’t the 1990’s, and Dick’s definitely not a lady.”

“Or your Dickie will realise how well you know him, and want to provide for him?” Catherine counters, looking far too invested for Jason’s comfort. He doesn’t want to unpack all those thoughts right now, though.

“Auuugh.” Jason groans, rubbing his hands over his face. “OK, Mom, I’ll try it. I mean what’s the worst that could happen?”

In retrospect, testing fate like that was a stupid thing to do.

Because while Jason’s somehow managed to convince Dick to not only come to the restaurant, all dressed up and looking like sex on legs; he ordered for him which causes a momentary frown. Two seconds afterwards, Dick looks around the rest of the restaurant, epiphany sparking on his face; he looks back at Jason and slips into his Richie Grayson-Wayne mode.

“This is so nice, very impressive you could get a table here.” Dick’s voice is pitched slightly higher than his natural voice, and higher still than his Nightwing one.

“I called in a favour with some old friends.” Jason shrugs. No need to tell Dick that the ‘old friends’ are Marc and Jimmy, ghosts who’d been willing to come over to the restaurant, look at the bookings and then ‘encourage’ a couple to go elsewhere. The ‘elsewhere’ being their nearest church to try and get themselves exorcised.

“Still! Even Brucie hasn’t come here yet.” Dick smiles in that empty headed way he perfected at galas. It makes Jason’s shoulders tense for a reason he’s never quite worked out.

“The food’s supposed to be good.” Jason says, and then fights off the urge to cringe. He sucks at small talk, always has done. His fingers twist into the napkin resting over his lap.

“I’m looking forward to trying what you ordered for me.” Dick nods, but there’s a spark in his eye that Jason doesn’t miss. Dick hadn’t been too impressed with that move then. Fuck, he’d hoped that Catherine would be right about the ordering. Well, too late now.

They’re saved from more awkward conversation by their food arriving. Dick smiles politely at the waiter and the poor man gets flustered, mixing up their orders. They swap their plates once the waiter goes, and silence descends as they begin eating. The food is good. Not rave review good, Jason’s had better; cooked better himself, in fact; but good enough to deserve the prices they’re charging.

Jason racks his mind for something to talk about, kicking himself for not having planned this in advance. He’s in a small intimate setting with Dick, and instead of managing to be witty or interesting; he’s pulling a Bruce, near dead silent and awkward. At least Dick doesn’t seem bothered by the silence, for once not trying to fill it. But then he’s looking everywhere in the restaurant except for Jason. Their plates are cleared away by the same waiter as before, except this time blushing, and Jason tries not to fidget with his wine glass.

“So... What have you been up to since I last saw you?” Jason says, torn between being proud of himself for getting a question out and annoyed that it’s the best he can do.

“Oh, the usual for this time of year.” Dick says with an insincere smile. “I’ve just got back from two weeks spent in the Hamptons with friends, and before that I was in Europe for two months.”

Both of those things are a lie, of course. Jason saw him last week on patrol in Gotham. His heart sinks as he realises something has gone very wrong here. “Uh, Dick... What’s with the Richie Grayson-Wayne act?” Jason downs the last of his wine. It wasn’t a very good red, and to be honest, definitely not worth the price.

“What are you talking about, Jay?” Dick says with a slightly confused smile. Then he leans forward and whispers. “Isn’t this why you wanted me along on this case?”

“_Fuck_. Case?” Jason clenches his hand in his lap, crumpling the napkin viciously. “OK, you know what, I’m just gonna get the check and we can leave.”

“We don’t have to.” Dick’s still leant forward, whispering. “I don’t know what the problem is, but I’m good for sticking around longer, can’t we at least have dessert?”

“Nope, nope, no. We’re leaving.” Jason says firmly, even as his heart twists painfully in his chest. He puts his hand up to signal the server over, and within a few minutes of tense silence, he’s paid for their meals. 

Dick’s being weirdly passive, not asking any questions, following his lead when usually he’d be questioning everything Jason’s doing. Which is why it’s no surprise that once they’re a minute away from the restaurant, Dick finally opens his mouth. “OK, what the hell? Did I somehow blow our cover in there?”

“No. And more importantly why would you think we’re undercover?” Jason stares at him. How the hell had Dick got that idea into his head? Jason definitely hadn’t said anything about a case when he’d invited him out. How did Dick get ‘undercover mission’ from ‘Do you wanna get dinner tonight? If yes, please dress nice.’

“Because that place is the latest mob front? Bruce and I have been trying to get into it for weeks? I saw Falcone _and_ Maroni lieutenants meeting there.” Dick blinks at him and then a grin crosses his absurdly pretty face. “That, and you were acting like a gangster taking his mobwife out for the night.”

“Oh.” Jason drags a hand down his face. “_Fuck_. And I spent so much time trying to find a restaurant with no mob connections. So, of course I take you to one.”

“You didn’t bring me as an undercover recon mission, did you?” Dick says, loosening his tie and searching Jason’s face with a concerned look.

“...No.” Jason admits, letting his shoulders sag, trying to resist the urge to cross his arms in front of him defensively.

“Jason. Why did you bring me here?” Dick’s frowning again, his voice finally dropping out of Richie Grayson-Wayne’s airheaded tones, and Jason wants to leave. Stop trying, and admit that it’s not meant to be between the two of them. Maybe this time his mom will let it go.

“It doesn’t matter. Forget it. This was such a stupid idea.” Jason sighs, turning away to walk along the street.

“Wait, wait!” Dick calls out behind him, rushing to catch up to walk beside him. “Jason, was this a _date_? A for real, actual date?”

“Yes, OK? Is that so crazy?” Jason bites out, deliberately not looking at Dick. He can’t bear to see pity or amusement or maybe even disgust on Dick’s face right now. “I thought we could... You know what, fucking forget it; I can’t believe I was stupid enough to think you’d even want to for one single fucking second.”

“No.” Dick says, voice so strong and firm, he’s almost slipping into Nightwing.

“Jesus, Dick. Kick a man when he’s down, why doncha?” Jason turns to Dick, irritation at not being left alone to lick his wounded pride overcoming the need to not look at Dick. 

“I mean. I’d like to try. Properly.” Dick looks entirely sincere, and it catches Jason completely off guard.

“Uh.” Jason says intelligently. “Seriously? But you don’t like me that way?”

“Yes. Seriously.” Dick nods, a small smile growing on his lips. “Look, if you’d asked me out three months ago, I definitely would have thought you were crazy. But, I don’t know, we’ve spent time together, and I’ve got to know you. And I like what I know and see of you. So, yeah, I’m willing to try a real date. Although maybe somewhere more private?”

“I could cook.” Jason says, trying not to spontaneously combust at the fact Dick’s going to give him a chance. “I mean, you could come over to mine, I’ll cook. If you want?”

“Wait, you can cook? How did I not know?” Dick says, a delighted smile on his face. “I’d really love that.”

***

Jason sighs, shaking the pan to coat the vegetables in oil. He doesn’t really believe that tonight will be any more successful than the last two attempts; this try is half to make his mom stop encouraging him, and half a genuine attempt to win Dick over. At least tonight Dick’s aware it’s a date. 

“You should add another pinch of paprika.” Catherine says brightly. “Or cayenne pepper. Give it a bit more bite.”

“Mom. I know how to cook this. Alfred taught me the exact recipe Dick likes best.” Jason reminds her. Catherine had never really cooked; mostly because they’d barely had enough money for the basics; bread, cereal, and boxed mac’ ‘n’ cheese. Jason had learnt cooking from scratch from Alfred, and continued his lessons with a chemist, a poisons master, and probably the best chef Jason’s met apart from Alfred.

“OK, OK, you know best.” Catherine backs off with an easy smile. “I just want everything to go right this time.”

“Well, it can’t go more wrong that last time.” Jason takes the now cooked crab out of the pot, letting it cool off enough so he can start working with it.

“I can’t believe the two straws one milkshake, and the fancy restaurant both went so wrong.” Catherine sighs. “They were perfectly set up. It’s so annoying.”

“I shouldn’t have listened to those outdated dating tips.” Jason cracks open the cooked crab, scooping out the meat, mixing it with the green onions, herbs, seasonings and parmesan.

“They worked so well when I was dating.” Catherine idly pokes at a wooden spoon in a nearby bowl, her finger passing harmlessly through the handle.

“The world’s moved on since then, I guess.” Jason packs the crab mixture into the mushrooms, transferring them to a tray in the waiting oven, ready to come out when Dick arrives later.

“You need to go get ready. I’ll call you if anything needs your attention in here.” Catherine says, making shooing movements at him. “Seriously, go make an effort for your Dickie.”

“Still not _my_ Dickie, Mom.” Jason says, knowing perfectly well his mom is going to ignore him.

“Not yet!” Catherine corrects with a laugh, and Jason sighs, figuring that responding won’t win him that argument. He goes into his bedroom, switching out his old t-shirt and sweats for a nicer pair of jeans and a button down. He fusses with hair, checks that his stubble, trying not to let nerves get the better of him. He’s taken down gangsters, drug rings, he’s fought Batman. A dinner date in his own home is nothing. Even if it is with Dick, the guy he’s been crushing on since always.

The knock on the door comes half an hour later, and Jason lets Dick in, giving him a quick nervous smile. Dick looks relaxed, like having a romantic dinner with Jason is perfectly normal for him. “I brought wine. Red since it goes with pretty much everything except fish.” Dick says, presenting Jason the bottle.

“Perfect, I made giant crab stuffed mushrooms.” Jason grins, checking the label. “Alfred told me it was your favourite. But that was back when I lived at the Manor, so...”

“They’re still a favourite! I can’t wait.” Dick looks around Jason’s apartment, seeing the table set for two. “You need any help?”

“No. I’m good.” Jason says, taking a breath to remind himself he can do this. “Why don’t you pour the drinks, and put on some music if you want? It’s nearly ready.”

“Sure.” Dick agrees easily, and Jason has to wonder if maybe he hit his head and this is all a dream, Dick’s being so nice.

By the time Jason’s come out with the food, Dick has indeed poured the drinks and put on some instrumental music, loud enough to fill the silence, but not so loud they’ll have to raise their voices to be heard.

“It looks as good as it smells.” Dick says, staring at the food with obvious hunger. “Thanks, Jay.”

“Yeah, yeah. Say that after you taste it.” Jason mutters, trying not to stare as Dick starts on his food the second his plate hits the table. “It’s OK?”

“It’s amazing. Good, I want you to cook for me all the time.” Dick’s eyes flutter shut, moaning quietly in bliss.

“Sounds like a full time job. I’ll pass.” Jason teases, wide grin on his face. Dick opens his eyes to stare at him, before smiling as he swallows. Jason doesn’t blush at the implication, but it’s a near thing. 

“Shame, I’d have paid you well in trade or favours.” Dick says shamelessly, and it’s only because Jason’s yet to take a bite that he doesn’t choke. 

“I’m insulted you think I’d be that cheap, Dickie.” Jason says, somehow managing not to splutter everywhere. The rest of the first course passes with ease. They talk about a few cases, and Dick takes every chance to flirt right up to dessert.

“I swear, I spent way too long picking out the eggshells from the eggs when I was making this meringue, so you better appreciate it. Consider this a relationship test.” Jason sits down, passing Dick his bowl of Eton Mess.

“And if I don’t, I shell not pass?” Dick grins, around a mouthful of dessert.

“Nope, nope, no, that’s it. Date’s over.” Jason declares grabbing both their bowls, twisting out of his chair to stand up. 

Dick dives forward, grabbing his arm. “No, no, I’m sorry! No more bad puns. Please let me have the dessert, Jay.”

“I’m gonna hold you to that, Dickie.” Jason sits down, not bothering to hide his teasing grin.

“Oh my god, you...” Dick shakes his head, his own smile betraying the whine in his voice. “That was mean!”

“You deserved it.” Jason says, regretting nothing. Dick shakes his head at him, but he still looks amused. 

“Mmmph!” Dick moans as he gets the first taste of Eton Mess. “Oh, Jay, this is so good.”

“Thanks.” Jason says, tucking into his own bowl. Truthfully, he usually finds the dessert a touch too sweet, but he made this one with mango, passion fruit and coconut to his own tastes.

“No, seriously. This is so good.” Dick looks at Jason with stars in his eyes. “I’d offer to blow you, but then I’d lose the taste of this in my mouth.”

Jason chokes on his own mouthful of meringue, cream and fruit. He thumps on his chest with his fist and takes a long drag of water. “Fuck, Dick!”

“Oh, we could totally do that instead! Good plan, Jay.” Dick beams at him, but Jason can’t tell if he’s joking and enjoying the fact he made Jason choke, or if he genuinely is up for sex tonight.

“You are a menace, Bondage Wonder.” Jason narrows his eyes at Dick, who just laughs in response.

“So, you’re _not_ going to throw me over shoulder and have your wicked way with me then? I’m a little disappointed now.” Dick fakes a pout, pushing those plump lips up at Jason.

“Oh, I am. I’m gonna wreck you.” Jason glares at Dick, and the look of amusement on Dick’s face heats up to something like genuine lust. Dick’s mouth drops open slightly, and a there’s a faint trace of a flush across his cheeks. “And then after? I’m gonna feed you more of this.”

“Promises, promises.” Dick breathes out, his pupils blown wide as he looks back at Jason. One of Dick’s hands lifts to trail his fingers over his neck invitingly. Jason wants to kiss that spot.

Jason leans over, pulling the bowl from Dick’s grip, dropping it on the table. “It’s less a promise and more a warning. Last chance to back out, Dickie.” Jason stands up, walking around the table to grab Dick’s wrist.

“Wait, right now?” Dick blinks up at him. “You’re not tricking me again are you?”

“No. And yes, right now. No time like the present.” Jason says, hauling Dick to his feet. He rests his hands on Dick’s hips, tugging him in close until their bodies are flush on one another. Jason hears the gush of breath that escapes Dick, feels his fingers land lightly on Jason’s shoulders. He ducks his head; this close he can see the many shades of blue that make up Dick’s pretty bright eyes. 

Dick licks his lips, tilting his face up to Jason’s. They hang there, lips barely brushing for what feels an eternity but can’t be more than a few heartbeats; and then Jason leans in, sealing his mouth on Dick’s. He presses up into Jason, parting his lips and Jason can’t resist swiping his tongue past them. The faint taste of fruit and cream does nothing to mask how hot Dick’s mouth is. Dick tightens his fingers on Jason’s shoulders, going up on tiptoe so that Jason’s not straining down so far. 

Pulling back, Jason hears Dick pleased little sigh, and it’s his cue to take a better grip of Dick’s hips and haul him up over Jason’s shoulder. He sees Catherine give him a thumbs up out of the corner of his eye. She ducks out of the room, and Jason can see her walk through the wall to give them some much needed privacy. “Prepare yourself Grayson. I’m not gonna go easy on you.”

“I can’t wait.” Dick says, sounding delighted as he wraps every part of his body around Jason that he can. Jason walks them straight towards his bedroom, closing the door behind them.

***

Jason slips out of bed and silently pads to the kitchen, craving a cup of tea. The sun is barely cresting the horizon, and it lends the kitchen a slightly dreamy quality that Jason finds he enjoys as he stares into his cup, watching the dark liquid slosh gently in his mug.

“Hey sweetie.” Catherine says, and Jason looks up to see her as serene and joyful as she’s ever been. The last time Jason saw her look like that was bare hours before she overdosed. “You had a good night. I can tell.”

“Mom!” Jason sputters, flustered. With his free hand he rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah, I did.”

“Good.” Catherine smiles again, cupping Jason’s face in her hands, his eyes widening in surprise. Catherine’s never managed to touch his skin before. “I can leave knowing you’re in good hands.”

“Mom...” Jason breathes out, knowing what’s coming, even though he’s not ready for it.

“Oh, sweetie. We both knew this was going to happen eventually.” Catherine says, looking wistful for a second before the fierce joy appears again. “And we both knew _how_ this would happen.”

“Yeah. I did.” Jason swallows around the suddenly appeared lump in his throat. 

“I know you’ll be happy with Dick. And that’s all I needed.” Catherine says, kissing his forehead.

“It could all go wrong.” Jason says, desperate for just a little longer with her.

“Jason, I know you. Once you give your heart, you’re all in. Nothing short of death is going to stop you from making it work. And I think your Dickie will be the same once he realises that’s the way you are.” Catherine says, staring into his eyes. “Trust in yourselves.”

“I will, Mom.” Jason promises seriously, even as his heart breaks.

“Good.”Catherine sighs, smiling again. “It’s time then. I love you, and I’m so, _so_ proud of you. Don’t forget that.”

“I won’t.” Jason whispers, fingers clutching at his now cold tea.

“And don’t let the other ghosts give you any hassle. I can and will come back from the other side to kick their asses.” Catherine’s eyes crinkle up as she grins.

“I’ll tell them exactly that.” Jason chuckles, even as his throat is closing up and his eyes feel suspiciously wet.

“Goodbye, Jason. I hope I won’t see you again for a long time.” Catherine lets her fingers slip down Jason’s cheek, and turns towards the glowing of the rising sun.

“Goodbye, Mom.” Jason chokes out as Catherine walks into it. The light brightens and she fades into it, radiating peace and contentment. Jason stares hard into the light, drinking in every last second, until the smile on her face is burnt into his eyes as an afterimage.

He loses track of time, staring out of the window at the sun. He doesn’t even move when Dick comes into the kitchen, yawning and stretching. Dick smiles at Jason, that same peace he saw on his mom’s face on Dick’s.

“Morning, Jay!” Dick says brightly, tugging his oversized t-shirt down. Jason recognises it as one of his own, and it spreads a warmth through his chest that he needs after saying goodbye to his mom.

“Hey.” Jason’s voice is rough with unshed tears, but he tries to smile at Dick anyway.

“Something wrong?” Dick frowns, looking at Jason with worry.

“No. I’m fine.” Jason shakes his head as Dick continues to frown. “Just thinking about the rest of our lives.”

“_Our_ lives?” Dick says, eyebrows rising; and Jason realises he’d let more slip about his intentions than he’d meant to with that.

“I... yeah. Yeah, if you want. Our lives.” Jason says trying for casual. Might as well admit it all now, he thinks.

“I like the sound of that.” Dick grins, going up on his toes to drop a kiss on Jason’s cheek.

“Yeah. Me too.” Jason loops his arm around Dick’s waist and tugs him into a hug, kissing the top of Dick’s head as he giggles.

Things Jason knows now:

His mom is in heaven.  
His purpose in life is helping others move on.  
He’s going to spend the rest of his life with Dick.  
Everything is going to be alright.


End file.
